Sleepwalking
by TheNewWeeds
Summary: Post Dark Knight. A new take on Harley Quinn's origins and her relationship with the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

disclaimer:I obviously do not own The Dark Knight (which was freaking awesome') or the Joker(also awesome) in the Dark Knight or any other incarnation he has appeared in.

Hey people, this is my take on how the story will continue after The Dark Knight. Harley Quinn was my favorite character in the cartoon series, and I think she would be the best person to bring on in a future film. I would just like to alert everyone that she will never appear as Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the psychaiatrist. While I really love her backstory, I also think this topic is being used in a lot of fics already, so I'm going to be altering her origins quite a bit once I get to her part in the story. Enjoy!

It was a sweltering night in late July, one of the most eventful Gotham had ever seen. Word went out to all emergency vehicles that the Joker could no longer detonate the explosives that were hooked up to the ferries as they awaited their doom. Rescue boats were sent immediately to evacuate each one. The citizens were to be sent back to their homes, and the convicts returned to prison. As they stepped onto shore, the large, silent convict who had thrown their detonator overboard shot a deadly glare at the top of a nearby building where a man hung upside down, piercing the night with his laughter.

The SWAT team marched hurriedly to the top floor. When they reached it three frantic Dobermans held them up just long enough to see a dark hooded figure dash to the back of the room and leap over the edge. The heavily armored defense team restrained the hounds while the attack team advanced on the balcony, where the Joker dangled for his life.

He never resisted as he was pulled down and manhandled from the roof, his strength was robbed by the incessant laughter that taxed his senses. None of his captors could help but think that either this man was completely nuts, or Batman had told him one hell of a joke before he left him hanging by the ankles twenty feet in the air. He suppressed his laughter momentarily, just long enough to hold his wrists out in mock surrender. _We've caught the Joker,_ they all must have been thinking. He bent his head towards his chest as his shoulders shuddered with muffled giggles, _they all look so excited..._

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. As he was led down to the next floor they passed a group of hostages who had been disguised as clowns. The sight of each one being unmasked and tended to was just so..._delicious_. All attempts he'd made to stop his laughter were forgotten as a maniacal cackle erupted from his throat and reverberated off of the walls. The Joker continued this display as his escorts tugged him through the building, becoming more and more uneasy as the laughter intensified. So much air had been expelled from his lungs that he'd stopped at one point and leaned on a wall for support, only to be yanked away by one of the SWAT members.

When they emerged onto the street, an armored vehicle similar to the one Dent had been taken away in waited, ready to leave. When They boarded, one SWAT member accompanied him in the back and watched him chuckle to himself. It seemed as though he was genuinely trying to stop laughing, but he was failing terribly. His mirth was like a carbonated liquid that was sealed inside of him, and he was continuously being shaken to the breaking point. He doubled over as he chuckled, his oily green strands of hair obscuring his mottled white face. The uniformed man sitting opposite of him simply looked away, and then shuffled uneasily.

"...I'm sorry," he panted," do you, _heh heh_, do you ever have those moments when you just can't sop laughing for the life of you? Err...," he glanced at the man's name tag,"...Miller?"

Miller gave him the most annoyed and peculiar of looks, as though he were insulted that a man so _ridiculous_ had addressed him. The uneasiness was now gone, nearly extinguished when the Joker had decided to include him in whatever he thought was so hysterical. Instead of being thankful, he scorned the very idea. Clearly, he had forgotten just who he was locked up with.

The Joker's tongue darted out over the corner of his mouth,"Cat got you're tongue?", he inquired with a playful look, leaning just close enough to to add fuel to the flame that was Miller's discontent.

"Hold it right there!", the startled guard jumped for his firearm, holding the end of the barrel just inches from the other man's streaked white forehead. Two dark muddy eyes crossed upward toward the gun, and then focused back on Miller. The playfulness had been replaced by a scorn of his own, silently chiding Miller for acting so silly.

_What do you think I'm gonna do?_ He seemed to ask as he regarded Miller with a smirk, eyes traveling from the gun to Miller to the heavy cuffs around his wrists.

_Oh, there are plenty of things i could do_, he thought, _But I think this has been enough fun for one evening._

"Just keep that freaky mouth of yours shut until we get downtown", he said before lowering the gun.

_Well he's no fun_, the joker mused, _and I had such high hopes for him..._

He really couldn't stand killjoys like Miller, Gordon, and Batman. No matter what, it was just impossible for them to get a joke. But the Joker remained optimistic during his ride to Gordon's makeshift MCU. In his optimism, a thought struck him.

_Everyone laughs with the right provocation..._

He began to giggle once more. Soon, the giggle developed into a chuckle, and by the time they had arrived, it had become a rolling and manic howl that had Miller cuddling his gun for dear life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two weeks earlier**

_"Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and everyday he doesn't, people _will_ die... starting tonight. I'm a man of my word..."_

"Harlene"

_HEHEHAHAHAHA_

"Harlene!"

"Oh! Sorry, Natasha. I was miles away..."

Harlene Quinzel snapped back to reality from what seemed like the strangest dream. Ever since the Joker's threat aired that afternoon it was all she could think about. The sun was setting over the skyscrapers, barely noticed by the crowd socializing at the top of Bruce Wayne's penthouse. Everyone was gathered for Harvey Dent's reelection fundraiser. Bruce had given her friend Natasha a personal invitation and told her she could bring a friend if she liked. Natasha had chosen Harlene, desperate to get her out to meet people while she was still in Gotham. Honestly, Harlene could hardly wait until Cirque du Doli and The Moscow Ballet moved on to the next town...

"Come with me Darling. We should say hello to Harvey at least once before the night is over." Natasha said with a thick Russian accent.

"I've never even met the guy, Natasha. How do you know he's not just bribing Bruce to give him all this positive publicity?"

"Because I've met him, Harlene, and he is actually quite an agreeable man. Bruce and I had dinner once with him and miss Dawes. Ah- there they are..."

"Natasha, I really don't-", Natasha took Harlene by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to where Harvey stood. One of his hands was occupied by a champaigne glass recently aquired from Bruce Wayne's butler. He seemed to be frantically searching the crowd for someone.

"Mr. Dent-", Natasha began. But before she could get his attention everyone became focused on the landing pad outside, where the thunderous din of a helicopter faded to a stop as the blades on the top slowed to a halt. Out of the chopper stepped Bruce Wayne, and four of his closest floozies.

"Really, Bruce..." Natasha muttered under her breath.

"Oh yeah, He seems like a great judge of character." teased Harlene, earning her an elbow to the side from Natasha, who was watching Bruce intently.

"I'm sorry that I'm late, I'm glad you all got started without me. Now where is Harvey..." Bruce said with a air of grandeur as his companions helped themselves to some champaigne. "Ah, Harvey Dent, the Man of the Hour. And where is Rachel Dawes?" A slim brunette stepped out of the crowd and joined Harvey, who held out his arm for her to take. While Bruce gave a small speech, Harlene's paranoia crept up on her once again.

"_LOOK AT ME_"

"Natasha..." Harlene shifted uncomfortably.

_"...this is how_ crazy _Batman's made Gotham..."_

"Natasha." she was now gripping he friend's shoulder.

"What is it, Darling? I'm trying to listen."

"That thing on the news..."

Mr. Wayne finished his speech and the crowd broke up. Before Natasha could say hello to him he dashed off to the balcony outside, followed closely by Rachel Dawes.

"Oh, Harvey!" Natasha said, taking Harlene by the arm again.

"Natasha," Harvey said with a start as he turned to face her, "so nice to see you again."

She curtsied, sweeping back the long flowing skirt of her black gown. "I do hope your fundraiser goes well tonight. May I introduce you to a friend of mine-"

"I'm sorry Natasha, could you excuse me for just a moment? I seem to have misplaced my date..." Harvey said in a nervous fashion before scurrying off.

"Everyone's behaving so peculiarly today..." Natasha murmured.

"Maybe there's a good reason for that," interjected Harlene,"like, you know, that threat tape that was on the News?"

She must have let her uneasiness show a bit too much. Natasha put her hands on Harlene's shoulders.

"Harlene. You really have nothing to worry about. I know this isn't exactly the..." the older woman glanced to the side for a second,"most _secure_ town in the world. But this is _Bruce Wayne's_ establishment. We are perfectly safe up here."

"I guess..." Harlene conceded as she tucked a blonde spiral curl behind her ear.

But she was still unconvinced. As the night rolled onward the chatter of the partygoers became more and more incoherent. She could feel tension mounting in the air. Bruce was beginning to get uneasy as well. It seemed as though he was checking his cell phone every five minutes for messages. Harlene took to watching him when Natasha had become too drunk to carry on an intelligent conversation with. She reasoned that as long as Bruce wasn't panicking, she didn't need to. But that may not have been such a logical thing to think. What could this playboy billionaire possibly have to panic about?

At eight fifty-three that evening, Bruce Wayne began panicking.

Harlene noticed that he must have received a message after the fiftieth time he checked it, and he didn't seem happy about what it said. He went to his butler (she'd learned earlier that evening that his name was Alfred), and whispered something into his ear. A slight nod from Alfred, and Bruce had disappeared int the elevator nearby. Only minutes later, Harvey Dent was pulled away by an unseen pair of arms, much to Miss Dawes' dismay. Before Harleen could see her full reaction, however, the elevator at the far end of the room made a "ding" sound. Alfred moved toward the elevator doors as they opened, he and Harlene both assuming it was Bruce. It wasn't.

A loud shot cracked through the room, silencing everyone inside.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentle_men_..."

All eyes turned upon him. He seemed to feed off of their collective shock, striding through the room looking about as if he were an expected guest. He took an orderve from one of the tables and munched on it while his thugs, all clad in haphazard clown masks, moved in on the partygoers. He looked ridiculously menacing, to say the least, in his enormous purple overcoat and faintly green curly strands. Harlene hadn't noticed the makeup until he turned to her side of the room. The Joker.

"We are tonight's entertainment," he offered to the crowd, searching each of their faces," I only have one question. Where. is. Harvey. Dent?" The closer he came to the window-side of the room, the more petrified Harlene became. She was standing at the very front of the crowd, with no one to hide behind. Her heart raced as he moved towards her. It seemed as though he was looking right at her until he stopped two feet in front of her and a dark haired woman at her side. She tried her best to look away. She became so mesmerized that she couldn't help but stare directly at him, not at the scars on his cheeks, but into his dark shining eyes. They weren't looking at her. He took the glass of champaigne the woman next to her was holding, eliciting a small yelp from her. After one drink from it he slammed it down on a nearby table.

Harleen's attitude toward the whole situation quickly shifted. Not quite sure why she suddenly felt this way, she watched him now in fascination as he harassed random guests and helped himself to more orderves. As everyone shook in terror and silence she was worrying that the white dress she had worn didn't look classy enough. She found herself stressing over how ridiculous she'd just decided her hair looked.

_W__hy did you have to curl your hair today?_ she thought to herself, wishing he would come near her again, _You look like freaking Medusa!_

One elderly victim seemed to be intoxicated enough to backtalk the Joker.

"We're not intimidated by your thugs!" he exclaimed.

The Joker stopped momentarily, slamming another glass down. "You know, you remind me of my father." He said before shoving his pocketknife against the man's mouth,"I _hated_ my father!"

"Okay, stop." said a voice from the crowd. Rachel Dawes appeared at the front.

He stepped away from the man and left him to his goons, regarding the woman as if she were a buffet table.

"Well hello, Beautiful..." he leered provocatively. Harleen suddenly felt a wave of intense jealousy.

"You must be Harvey's squeeze, Hm?" he walked towards the brunette," And you are _beautiful_..."

_Call _me_ beautiful!_ She roared in her mind.

The Joker regaled Rachel with a story from his past which absolutely floored Harlene. At least until Miss Dawes saw an opportunity to strike him back.

"A little fight in you," he giggled," I like that-"

"Then you're gonna love me."

Batman seemed to appear from nowhere, knocking the Joker back a good ten feet. Harleen watched in horror as Batman tousled with the Joker and his goons until Miss Dawes was taken hostage and held over the edge of the balcony.

'Let her go." Batman demanded.

"Very poor choice of words" the Joker laughed as he flung her over, followed closely by the caped crusader. _He set himself up for that one_, Harleen thought to herself. Was she the only one that found that amusing?

"It's been fun everyone, but I really must be going," the Joker announced before dashing back towards the elevator," give Harvey my regards!"

Later that evening the authorities interrogated several people about what their thoughts were on what had taken place. It's a good thing they never asked Harleen, because they may have been disturbed by her answer.

_He was amazing..._


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys. Sorry this update took so long, but school and work are being really hectic right now. I appreciate all the patience!

* * *

**Present Day**

Jim Gordon stood at the window of his fifth-story office. He watched the spectators below shuffle past Harvey Dent's memorial service, leaving flowers and other tokens of gratitude for Gotham's White Knight.

"That was quite a stirring eulogy, Commissioner." Gordon glanced behind him, and his eyes briefly widened in a look of surprise.

"Bruce Wayne? I'm surprised to see you here."

"I thought I might have a word with you. As the man who'd last seen Harvey Dent, I figured you could set the record straight on what exactly happened to him..."

Gordon turned around and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm just curious," Bruce added with an innocent shrug.

The Commissioner's face visibly softened, and he gave Bruce a weak smile. A sigh escaped him as he looked the west window of his office.

"The poor man was still quite shaken up by Miss Dawes' passing. I'm sorry, you knew her as well, didn't you?"

"Yes, she was a very good friend."

"Well, as I told Harvey at the time, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, but," Bruce glanced through the window at the blown up portrait of Harvey,"think of what Gotham has lost. I do have to hand it to you, Gordon. This was one moving event. I'm sure Rachel would have wanted Harvey to be remembered as the hero that he was."

Gordon looked troubled for a moment.

"The Media has reported that Harvey was still in Gotham General the day that the Joker's bomb threat was made-'

"I know the story that all the news stations are reporting, Gordon. But if that's true, then why wasn't he evacuated with everyone else? And no remains were discovered, the story just doesn't seem-"

"Mr. Wayne," Gordon said tensely,"I'm sorry, but that's all the information that can currently be released outside of police headquarters. I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course...," Bruce visibly backed off, taking a seat in front of Gordon's desk. "So... what was the sentence that was decided for the Joker?"

"Why is it you suddenly seem so interested in police affairs, Mr. Wayne? No offense but, shouldn't you be keeping up with... your next fund raiser? Whatever it is men of your status are up to?"

"I just thought I'd take an active interest in what goes on in Gotham, what with all the events that have been happening recently."

"Well good for you, Mr. Wayne. The Joker's trial certainly was interesting. He was charged with enough felonies to receive the death penalty several times over. But that's now going to be impossible due to the... circumstances of his alibi."

"Which was?"

"Insanity. It certainly wasn't difficult to convince the judge. He's now facing a lifetime in a solitary cell at Arkham."

"I see. What sort of security restraints is he under?"

"I'm not sure, but we believe that the standard procedures will be sufficient-"

"But what if he escapes?!" This sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to.

"...We've got it under control, Mr. Wayne. Now, if you please, I have a lot of sorting out to do on this case."

Bruce understood when he was being kicked out.

"Of course, Commissioner. Well, thank you for your time." He muttered before scurrying out of the office.

* * *

AN: Short, I know. And kinda boring, I know that too. To make up for it, the next chapter will be posted in the next few days. Until then!


	4. Chapter 4

Bruce rushed to the curb outside Town Hall. He disappeared into a Rolls Royce that promptly rolled around the corner. The escape was welcome, he couldn't keep himself from feeling uneasy as Harvey's portrait stared down at him.

"Back to the apartment, Sir?" His driver inquired.

He could never help blaming himself for what had happened to Harvey. But no, _Harvey's predicament was caused by the Joker. _It was all Bruce could tell himself to continue on with his life. After the night when Gordon was forced to call the dogs after him, it was almost impossible to be outside dressed as Batman. He had to find some other way of occupying himself. For now, at least.

The Rolls paused in front of Mammoth Apartments. The day was overcast, but just as warm as the night several days ago. As Bruce got out and passed through the revolving door, the man standing in uniform at the front chirped,"Good morning, Mr. Wayne!" Bruce gave him a slight nod and continued into the lobby, where the elevator to his suite was about to close. He rushed towards the door, and found that it was suddenly being held open by someone from the inside.

"I've got it, Mr. Wayne." she said as he entered and caught his breath.

"Thank you, it's always such a hassle to catch an elevator now that the other one's out of order, Miss...?"

"Kyle," she said with a friendly smile,"Selina Kyle."

Bruce nodded and looked forward, but he had trouble keeping his eyes off of her.

Between glances he observed that she had dark hair that reached her shoulders, and bright green eyes with a slight slant to them.

"So, have you been staying here long, Miss Kyle?"

"I've actually just moved here this month, but I don't really know if I'll be staying long considering all of the stuff that's been going on."

"Oh, I don't know about that. We've certainly been shaken up, but it's hardly a reason to relocate once you've settled in."

"I move around a lot, really. But-," the elevator shuddered to a stop, andthe doors slid open," Um, this is my floor..."

Bruce nodded and stepped to the side as Selina walked out into the hallway,"Maybe I'll see you around, Mr. Wayne?"

"Bruce." he said with a smile as the elevator closed and continued upward.

* * *

A long, flowing curtain was drawn away from the wall to wall window at the top of Mammoth Apartments. Alfred Pennyworth frowned at the newly illuminated mess that was Bruce Wayne's penthouse. He'd begun gathering dirty clothes and dishes when he heard the front door slam shut. Bruce strode into the room and tossed his jacket onto the bed.

"Ah, Master Wayne. I was just about to prepare lunch, though i wasn't sure how long you were going to be at Town Hall. You weren't gone very long."

"They're not giving him the death penalty, Alfred. He's not even going to prison." Alfred allowed himself a momentary sigh while Bruce wasn't looking. _It's going to be one of _those_ days..._

'Well then, what _are_ they doing with him?"

"He's gone to Arkham. I can't accept this... it's just like the days when Crane and Falcone were running the town."

"I highly doubt Doctor Crane or Carmine Falcone had anything to do with this man's sentence, Master Wayne. Sometimes Death can be too simple a punishment. For example, the former dictator of Cambodia was responsible for the deaths of of over a million people. As a punishment, he was put under house arrest, nothing more. At least they knew where he was at, I suppose." Alfred offered a small smile, but Bruce failed to see the humor.

"He escaped the interrogation cell at Gordon's office. I can't help but feel a bit skeptical."

"Understandable. But I for one know that you have a knack for dealing with tradgedy, Sir. Perhaps you should try to keep your mind off all this for a while. Speaking of which, Miss Natasha called. she'd heard about your loss and would like to take you out to the performing arts theatre. A famous acrobatics troupe is in town and she says she's very good friends with one of the performers."

"I'll call her back tonight. Right now we need to go to the cave. I need to find out what Gordon told the police about Dent's death."

"...Very well, Sir. I'll have the car around the front shortly."

* * *

Once the two reached the hideout beneath the reconstruction of Wayne Manor, Alfred began his work hacking into the GPD files. Bruce took another look at his suit, assesing the damage it had undergone during its last outing.

"They're still carrying on the manhunt. Agents go out on the streets from six o'clock PM to six AM. Any officer who spots the Batman will first report his location to all other units, then begin pursuit."

"Let me guess," Bruce muttered, fingering the shallow punctures in the armor where the Joker's pets had assaulted him,"They'll be bringing dogs."

"K-9 units are reported to have minimal effectiveness, but still yield higher effectiveness than human officers."

"That's because the officers were holding back. They most likely won't now that I've killed Harvey."

"Master Wayne..."

"look at the file, Alfred. Tell me I'm wrong."

Alfred turned back to the screen and worked at the keyboard for another few minutes.

"It says that Dent did not die in the Joker's explosion, but that is the story that they're supposed to tell everyone else. The official story is that Dent and Commissioner Gordon's family were kidnapped by the Batman and held hostage," Alfred's voice never changed but his grip onthe mouse grew tighter as he read along," It also says Dent lost his life to Batman in an attempt to save Gordon's family."

"I told Gordon to handle it, and he did. Access the Arkham files next. I want to decide for myself whether or not the Joker is able to escape."

"And what will you do when that happens?,"Alfre said, standing up,"Go after him and risk being taken into custody? Or avoid capture and risk digging yourself into a bigger hole than the one you're in?"

"Batman has always been viewed as an enemy of the police. If that's what I really have to be, then so be it."

After an uneasy silence, Bruce continued,"And I'm going to talk to Lucius about a better way to repel the dogs. There's gotta be some sort of technology out there that will work."

* * *

Hello again! Sorry the story has been focusing a lot on Bruce so far, but not for long. I also snuck an Eddie Izzard reference in there. Gold star to whoever caught it!

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Arkham Asylum rests in the Narrows, an area of town that was devastated over a year ago by the breakout that ensued after it became shrouded in fear gas. But Gotham was quick to rehabilitate itself, clear the area of the airborne hallucinogens, and round up as many inmates that it could. The Asylum had received generous donations from Wayne Enterprises to hire a staff that was morally sound, and repair damage that escaped inmates had caused. But it was the same building that _he_ remembered. The same bleak white hallways and blinding lights, the same cramped cells and observation windows. The only difference was that he was now experiencing them from the inside, as a patient instead of an employee.

Johnathan Crane sat huddled at the very end of the wall length bench in Arkham's recreation room. Around him fellow inmates argued, babbled, and rocked back and forth. Directly beneath him, a man with several patches of hair missing worked diligently at a jigsaw puzzle. The former Arkham employee had his legs curled beneath him to avoid touching the man with his feet.

_Ignoramuses_... he thought, leaning his head against the wall. Shifting his weight, he returned to the romance novel in his hands, hidden behind a new issue of Popular Science. He could'nt let the others know, of course, not even the guards. He'd never hear the end of it. Johnathan rationalized his interest in books like this one by the fact that his entire life had been completely devoid of romantic interaction. Still, it was difficult to read with all the noise from the outside winding it's way through his head. The buzzing that the room's inhabitants created was unbearable. _This place is certainly comparable to some layer of Hell._

Through the window on the other side of the room Johnathan watched an attendant push Carmine Falcone, slumped over in a wheelchair, down the hallway.

_It _is_ better than prison..._ he reasoned. The effects of his fear toxin had worn off quite some time ago... for the most part. His mind was strong, but he would still jump at an especially sudden movement, and he still suffered the occasional hallucination here and there. Crane only needed to act the part to remain in Arkham, and he knew what sort of behavior would ensure that he was never considered for a transfer to the County Prison. A panicked stare and occasional bouts of paranoia kept his handlers convinced. His current ploy? He swore that there were black, pulsating snakes coming out of his faucet at night, and they tried to suffocate him while he slept. Humiliating, yes. But it bought him some time to enjoy the openness of the recreation room after the riff-raff had cleared out.

Today it seemed that the other inmates were herded out earlier than usual. But Crane was not about to question his good fortune, so he decided to go with it. His escort approached him slowly and asked,"Ready to go, Mr. Crane?"

_It's Doctor Crane, imbecile_. He thought, but simply responded with a petrified glare and vigorous shaking of the head from side to side.

"You _sure_? I wouldn't if i were you." the man continued, unusual behavior on his part.

_What's his game?_ Crane wondered. Though he was sure that his handler wouldn't tell him if he asked. As "morally sound" as the employees were, they did like to mess with the "crazies". Albeit in a kinder way than Crane had done himself.

Crane jerked his head up and down, throwing in a shudder for good measure.

"Suit yourself."

The man left the room, as he did it seemed as though he were walking a bit faster than usual.

_Finally._ Johnathan was about to return to his book when the sound of wheels was heard coming down the hall. He didn't look up from the book, but he stopped reading when the sound stopped in front of the door to the recreation room.

A figure strapped into a straight jacket was wheeled in, and stopped in front of the couch. The men accompanying him said,"Now, we're going to be watching you through the window, got it? We'll be just outside. So, don't try any funny business." They shouldn't be leaving the room. Not with this one. Of course, noone could blame them for wanting to be as far from the area as possible.

Johnathan never looked up. Through his peripheral vision he formed an idea of who this man was. At first he didn't recognize him without the makeup, but it was the scars that gave it away. Even when he wasn't looking directly at him, they were hard to miss.

"Hey, what are you still doing in here?" one handler asked Johnathan, who was frozen in place, pretending he didn't exist.

"Why don't you just _let_ the guy stay?" the Joker drawled. Johnathan could feel him looking directly at him.

"It _looks_ like he's got some _important_ reading to catch up on."

The two handlers exchanged glances, and each walked out of the room.

A few minutes went by in searing silence. As each moment passed, Crane felt his companion's stare becoming more and more intense. His restraint on his paranoia was wearing thinner and thinner.

"Hey."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" he shrieked into his book.

"I want you to look at me."

Right. Time to play the "not existing" game again.

"**_CRANE_**." The window shuddered. Johnathan slowly turned his eyes to face the Joker.

"Good, Doc. Now, do you see that remote right there?" Crane nodded at the remote that layed on the couch between them.

"Yeah, that. You think you could turn on the TV? Pretty Please?" He fluttered his eyelids.

Trembling, the doctor set the book down with the magazine covering it. He reached for the remote and pressed the "ON" switch. The Gotham City News played in the background. Crane jumped back to his seat, nearly crushing himself against the wall. They sat for another few minutes before the Joker spoke again.

"You used to work here, so you oughta know, what kind of surveillance is this room under? Any kind of sound monitoring?"

"If I rec-call correctly, the camera up in that corner is CCTV, and there is no s-sound." The doctor was quick to learn that this man was not one to wait around for an answer.

"Perfect. I've been fixing to have a little chat, doc-,"

"How did you know that I used to work here?" Crane asked timidly.

"Heheheh, let's just say that your reputation precedes you, _Scarecrow_."

So, that's what this was all about.

"Not so high and mighty without your thugs and your drugs, are you?"

Crane was silent for a moment. Reminiscing the days when he was still at large filled him with a semblance of confidence. At least, enough to respond to the Joker.

"It's ironic, I suppose. I had never expected to cross paths with you while I was still," he gestured toward the window, where the Joker's escorts chatted, "out there."

"I very much doubt that," the Joker snapped, his face was suddenly all business. He shifted in his straightjacket and ran his tongue over his upper lip.

"Let me just begin by saying that..." he fluttered his eyes upward as though gathering his thoughts. "You were supposed to be plan A in my grand little scheme. Well, not _you_, exactly, but I'll get to that. I'm just making sure we're on the same page here."

Crane stared, trying to make sense of what this man was telling him.

"Anyway, you were quite an important factor in my original plan, which got _messed. up. _when the Batman booked you. Let's face it, it's not exactly as simple as making a collect call if you wanna get a hold of someone in Arkham. It was then I realized that the Batman was going to be a major... hindrance in any endeavors I came up with. So he had to go."

Crane still had no idea where he fit into all of this.

"That whole thing with the mob?" the Joker continued,"Heh, I was still under the delusion that I needed their help in bringing Bats down. I did end up making a pretty good name for myself, though. Yep..." he closed his eyes for a moment," One hell of a joyride... But I digress, while plan B was in progress, i discoverd that the Batman was going to be too much fun to kill, at least for now. And when he did finally get me, I figured, '_what the hell? I might as well give plan A another shot!' _So here I am, in Arkham, sitting right. next. to you."

"Wait," Crane Began,"you did all that just so you'd get locked up in here? So you could get to me?"

"No no no no, I showed that town it's true potential, and knocked out the competition in the process. Now, they'll all know who's responsible when plan A is set in motion."

"Which is?"

"FINALLY!" The Joker shouted, making Johnathan Jump,"I thought you'd _never_ ask! Well, doc, last year you invented a compound, one that can have a rather... _profound_ effect on those who are exposed to it. And you know what the best part about it was? IT TORE THE TOWN APART! I'd never seen anything with more pure, undiluted chaos. They're still repairing the damage. So, a thought struck me. What if I could make my own compound? One with a very different effect, but with the same idea in mind, turning this town on it's head. But, you see, I currently lack the materials," he glanced at his hands,"or the means to do it. That's where you come in, doc."

"If i might ask, where do I stand to benefit?" Crane gathered the stones to ask.

"You get out of here, of course. I bust us out of this dump, and you help me create this toxin. Have we got a deal?"

"I..." A deal with the Joker was nothing to be taken lightly. It became apparent that he needed some time. And he got it, surprisingly enough. Not because the Joker had found a surplus of patience somewhere in his mind, but because he'd become distracted by what was on the television.

"...performances start next week. Come and see Cirque Du Doli! This world-renowned acrobatics troupe is in town until the end of the month, traveling in conjunction with the Russian Ballet! Featuring talents from around the globe," the clips on the screen pictured costumed dancers and acrobats," like Maggie the High wire Dancer from the Alps, Jastin the Ukrainian flame-eater-"

"It seems that the circus is in town..." Johnathan observed.

"That. It. Is." The Joker replied curtly.

"-And their newest attraction, Harlene Quinzel, the young contortionist from right here in the States!" The Joker found himself licking his lips, then caught himself and narrowed his eyes at the television.

"You seem... very interested in the circus."

"And you seemed _very_ interested in that romance novel."

after what seemed like the thousandth awkward silence between them, Crane gathered up his book and walked towards the door.

"I'll consider your offer," he mumbled before leaving.


	6. Chapter 6

"Looks like we couldn't have picked a better night..." Bruce mumbled sarcastically. His limousine pulled in front of the packed Performing Arts Theater, the ticket box blocked by a thick crowd of people.

"As if it even mattered how many people are here," Natasha said, hugging her fur shawl around her as Bruce helped her out of the limo," We're still guaranteed the best seats in the house. Besides, it just goes to show what an amazing performance will be."

"I think I'll decide that for myself," Bruce countered.

Natasha walked ahead, pushing her way to the front of the mass of patrons. When she reached the door she was greeted by the usher, who seemed too swamped to even recognize her.

"Please have your ticket ready- Oh, Natasha!," he said ,"So glad to have you back!"

"Yes, thank you. Now, what's all this about my ticket?"

"My mistake, Madam. Miss Harlene's had it all taken care of."

"I should hope so, and for my guest?" she nodded her head toward Bruce as he approached and nodded hello. The Usher started for a moment, he had obviously not known who Natasha's guest was going to be.

"...Of course! Good to see you too Mr. Wayne. Come with me, I'll show you to your seats."

Attending anything here was never easy on Bruce. He had never admitted to Natasha that his parents had taken him to this very theater on the night that they were murdered. But she found out anyway, her only clue was the plaque on the side of the building with the words _IN REMEMBRANCE OF THOMAS AND MARTHA WAYNE_ engraved in it. She'd been so touched that he'd summoned the strength to come to her show that she had agreed to go out to dinner with him, which turned out to be on the night they ran into Harvey and Rachel. And here she was again, trying to distract him form the sadness he must have felt for their deaths.

They reached their private box seat, high above the suit-and-pearls-clad audience that shuffled into the rows below.

"Thank you again for coming with me, Bruce. I know this has been an especially difficult time for you."

"You're very welcome, but there's no need-" The lights in the theater began to dim, and Bruce was cut off by Natasha's over-excited squeal of "Shush! Shush! It's starting!" Bruce rolled his eyes with a smirk and wrapped his arm around her.

The stage lit up in pink and orange spotlights, and dancers in billowy costumes pranced onto the stage. They climbed on top of each other until they formed a pyramid. A man dressed in a black leotard and top hat went to the top. He pulled two clubs from his hat and brought them together with a loud "CRACK", causing them both to catch on fire. While the man juggled his flaming clubs, the dancers slowly snuck away from the pyramid, causing the audience to break out in soft laughter. Seeming not to notice, the juggler, continued until only one person was left to support him. The juggler feigned surprise when the last dancer gave way and he tumbled to the floor. He dramatically got to his feet and puzzled over the extinguished clubs. A moment later, a large belch erupted from his mouth, along with a roaring flame.

Meanwhile, Bruce was trying to distract himself from the show, which was already giving him uncomfortable flashbacks of the acrobats that had caused his childhood panic attack.

"So Natasha," he said softly into her ear,"how is it you know these people?"

"The Russian Ballet and Cirque du Doli have been traveling together on and off for a few years now," she responded,"We perform for the first few weeks in each city, and they perform for a few weeks before we move on."

"I see. And how long have you and Harlene known each other?"

"Since our tour in Romania last year. She's still relatively new to the business. When we met it was her first time traveling out of the states, so I taught her everything I know about how to deal with fans and managers."

"That can't be good." Bruce teased.

The theater went completely black, save for one narrow spotlight in the center of the stage. Two performers emerged carrying a black and red striped box about two square feet in size and set it on the stage.

"I think this is her act..." Natasha said softly, watching the stage.

A slender leg in a black leotard draped itself over the side of the box, then another leg dressed in maroon. Two hands emerged from the box and gripped the sides, lifting out their owner, a small blonde in a tight ponytail. Bent over so her head was tucked upside-down beneath her bottom, she hobbled about the stage, letting out a mock cry for help. Two other performers in black and red costumes ran onto the stage, each taking one of her outstretched arms. The performers tugged in the wrong direction, pulling her further into her predicament until she fell to the floor, literally straddling herself. The blonde made a pouty face and crossed her arms angrily, and the performers shrugged at her in unison. A third "helper" came onto the stage, holding a trapeze bar that was fettered somewhere high above the stage. He handed it to the girl, and gestured for her to hold on tight. She gave a sharp nod, and the other performers pulled an enormous crank onto the stage. When all three began turning the crank, the trapeze lifted the girl off the floor until she was over twenty feet in the air. She swung back and forth on the trapeze until her body fully straightened out, letting go of the bar and somersaulting to the floor.

After a few more acts, Harlene emerged again from a plank suspended above the stage, this time flowing reams of colorful cloth hung from her wrists and ankles. This portion of her act invloved she and several others dressed in similar outfits doing elaborate flips and dances while suspended on wires, high in the air. The long, light cloth trailed behind each dancer as they swung from one side of the stage to the other. Before long they were flying over the audience, and Natasha called out,"Harlene! Over here!"and Bruce sunk lower into his seat to avoid being noticed. Harlene swung momentarily above their box, waving and shouting "Hi!". Bruce returned with a small wave and a sheepish smile.

The rest of the performance passed just as mesmerisingly, and ended to a standing ovation. After the show, Bruce and Natasha met Harlene At _The_ _Gransville_, a restaurant in uptown Gotham.

"Hey," Harlene said, catching her breath as she took a seat in their booth,"I can't believe you guys beat me here. I thought you'd at least stay for the merchandise signing."

"We did," Natasha responded," you took too long in wardrobe."

"Oh yeah... it _does_ take awhile, getting out of that monkey suit. So, do I finally get to meet your friend?"

"Mhm! Bruce, may I introduce Harlene Quinzel. She is the one who accompanied me to the fund raiser..." Natasha broke off into an awkward silence, afraid that she may have offended Bruce by almost bringing up Harvey and the Joker's attack that night.

"Of course," Bruce said, keeping up the conversation,"I'm sorry I never got the pleasure. I also apologize for how... _harrowing_ the evening got."

"That's right," Harlene's mind drifted off as she fiddled with the gleaming aqua pendant around her neck," Deffinately, exciting..." Bruce's comment seemed to have backfired, because the next lapse in conversation seemed to be even more awkward.

"Er... that's a stunning necklace, Harlene. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, this thing? I found it in the dressing room we used back in Romania. I asked the caretaker if it belonged to anyone, but he said the people who used the room before us were already long gone, so I held onto it. Remember Natasha?"

"So it wasn't a gift or anything? What made you so interested?"

"I dunno, i just thought it was cute."

"But it _does_ bring me back!" Natasha interjected," While we were there, we went to see a fortune teller, just for fun. And she told Harlene that that charm would help her find her true love, isn't that cute?"

"Cute, sure. But you can never take that stuff seriously. She also said that I was going to _die_ very young. _Isn't that grim_?" Harlene added the part at the end, mocking Natasha's comment. "But you never know, she also told Natasha she would marry someone _influential_."

_Alright_, Bruce thought, _another subject change._

"Well ladies, would you like me to order for you? I'm afraid the whole menu is in French."

"Something light for me Bruce, I don't really care what."

"Well..." Harlene trailed, looking through the menu while leaning her cheek on her hand," I do understand the word _bon bon_."

"Desserts? Already?"

"What can I say? I'm a sugar addict. Ever since I was little!"

Natasha nodded cynically,"She does have, as you all say, the addictive personality."

Bruce gave a hearty laugh,"Alright. Bon Bons it is, Harlene. Should I feel guilty for supporting your addiction?"

"Hey, it could be something worse!"

As the evening continued, the conversation drifted to anecdotes from their younger years.

"I was actually supposed to be a psychologist, believe it or not," Harlene shared.

Bruce wiped the corner of his mouth on his napkin," Well, I don't beleive it."

"Seriously! I even went to school for it and everything. My parents were both psychologists, and they were pretty bent on having me do the same thing. But I spent every summer with my Aunt, who worked as a circus clown. When I was with her I practiced, and she told me I had talent for this business. Two years into college I realized that stuff wasn't for me, and I dropped out. My parents pretty much stoped talking to me... But that never really got me down-"

_Sheesh_, Bruce thought,_ this girl can ramble forever_. Sure, she was interesting in small doses, but after too long it just got old. Her blue eyes that seemed so deep when she was above them on the highwire now seemed just... flat. They were more of a light, icy blue that had no real depth to them. It didn't change the fact that she seemed like a nice enough girl, but lets just say that it's a good thing she was pretty.

"So after a little while in this small time circus act, I got accepted into Cirque du Doli. _That_ was my break, I had never been so excited."

A few tables behind them, a dark haired woman with slanted green eyes watched Bruce Wayne. Around her, her new friends giggled and gossiped, but she sat silently, stirring her coffee.

"Something wrong, Selena?" one of the women asked.

"I'm fine, I was just noticing-"

"Bruce Wayne, right? I know, He's kind of a big deal around here. I wanted to go ask for his autograph or a picture, but he's probably got bodyguards hiding in the plants or something. That guy really likes his privacy."

"No, well, yeah. It's just that I met him in an elevator once on the way back to my apartment."

"Really? He talked to you?"

"He's a pretty nice guy..." she responded. She was sick of the questions, honestly. And sick of being out with these people. There was just something about this Mr. Wayne...

"I think I'm gonna call it a night, girls."

"Aw, you're leaving already?" her friends asked with disappointed faces. Selena was no fool. She was perfectly aware that they knew she lived near Bruce Wayne, and was bound to know him by now. She only agreed to go out with them to get another glimpse of him.

"Yeah, I've got kind of a busy day tomorrow," she said before taking her purse, walking outside to the corner, and hailing the nearest cab. When she got in it took off into the city toward Mammoth Apartments.

* * *

Hey, thanks for being so patient. One thing: I've just realized that I've been spelling Natacha's name wrong, but i figured it's too late to go back on it now.

It gets better, I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

Some men were easy to read. In fact, a good majority were. At least, a good majority of the men Selena Kyle attracted.

_Except Bruce Wayne…_ She thought musingly. Bruce was smarter than most men; he was also less of an ass. This behavior wasn't consistent with what Selena had learned to expect of trust fund babies like him. She had another run-in with him one morning, at Mammoth Apartments' floor-level café. It surprised her how long he could carry on an intelligent conversation. Apparently philanthropy was something he took part in personally, instead of letting his advisors handle all the decision making. Selena even concluded that she might be genuinely interested in this man, so she took all of the standard precautions.

Of course, that meant doing a bit of spying. If she'd learned one thing, you never know how a man acts when you aren't around. A simple audio bug placed on his front door allowed her to know when he was going to be out recreating. This gave her the perfect opportunity to see what he was like around other people, or so she soon found out, other women. She expected him to be just as impressive, but she was very wrong. In the company of simple floozies, he became little more than a floozy himself. Bruce pretended he didn't even know what his trust fund advisors were up to at the moment. He also couldn't seem to talk about anything but the next yacht party, and what swimsuits each girl would arrive in.

Instead of being angry, or even disappointed, Selena was now very interested in Bruce Wayne, if also a bit confused. After following him in the company of several other people, she gathered that this man changed his behavior depending on who he was with.

_Why would he need to worry about that? _Selena wondered, _unless he has something to hide?_

The way Bruce put on his act was eerily similar to her own. The way his eyes shifted when he thought no one was around, how his mood could switch from carefee to absently preoccupied with a glance at his sidekick screamed that he was a man with something to hide.

A cat rubbed her tawny ear against Selena's ankle.

"Come here, sweetie," she crooned, lifting the cat into her lap and gingerly kissing the top of its head. That was quite enough thought about Bruce Wayne for one night, Selena decided. .All of her preparations had come to this: The apex of another job. Selena was what the layman would call a catburglar, one particularly interested in precious gems.

When Selena was young, her parents died, leaving her with a small fortune and one particularly valuable sapphire. The money didn't last long, and soon she was forced to sell the gem. However she didn't use the money to pay rent or buy groceries, with it, she financed her very first robbery, a jewlelry store down her street. The rest, as they say, is history.

This time around, the most difficult part had been obtaining the blueprints to the Gotham Museum, which was hosting a certain emerald the size of her fist. She had claimed she needed the blueprints for a tour she was planning. For realism she added a bit of scorn, pointing out that she wouldn't need them if the museum had allowed her to host a few pieces in her penthouse and hold the tour there. Upon investigating the security system, she found that no new tools were needed, her scrambler and laser kit would cover the whole thing. Too easy. But what should she expect? There had to be some reason why major criminals (like herself) were so irresistibly attracted to Gotham. The city may have become too overconfident, what with the Batman roaming the streets.

She sighed, looking out at the nocturnal city from her vanity stool. There hadn't been a sighting of the Batman since the Joker's stunt with the ferries, not since the manhunt began. Luckily all the manpower was focused on finding a bat, not a cat.

**Arkham Asylum, Cafeteria**

"So," The Joker began, "What do you think about the plan?"

Crane said nothing as he sat down opposite his fellow conspirator. The Joker had his wrists restrained closely to the table, just enough slack was allowed for him to be able to get food from his tray to his face.

"Did you even _get_ my note?"

"Yes, I got your note," Crane blurted, swallowing a spoonful of green bean jello, "I'm currently trying to get its taste out of my mouth."

"S'cuse me Doc?"

"…I had to pretend to eat it to keep the handlers from reading it." Such indignities. The Scarecrow was more than ready to be free from this hellhole.

"And? What do you think?"

Crane glanced at the monitors pointed at their corner of the long cafeteria table.

"I don't like it. Too much risk involved."

The Joker slammed a fist down as hard as he could on the tabletop, and leaned closely to Jonathan's side. "_Risk_. Is the only thing that will get us out of here," he spat. In an instant, he leaned back and continued happily munching on his peach cobbler. "Besides," he said with his mouth full, "It's not like you have to do anything especially difficult."

"Well shoot, Barney. Looks like the sick freak made a friend." One guard mentioned as he watched the two on the security monitor. Barney wasn't quite as amused.

"Keep an eye on them. Two fugitives like them suddenly take an interest in each other? That can't be good."

"Very true. But I help but think it's hilarious to watch Crane squirm whenever he's around the clown."

"Better him than us," Barney admitted.


End file.
